Accents
by trinkets
Summary: Hermione talks to Professor Lupin before he departs during her 3rd year.. Short story for now.


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Author's Note: This story takes place during Hermione's 3rd year, it's the morning after Sirius disappears and Professor Lupin has to leave.

**Accents**

The window to a world outside was never as uninviting as it was now. The beautiful weather had tinted the green, rolling hills and exhausted clouds. He mentally cursed the devil in the sky that had let its golden limps accent the day so very well. It was almost like the sun itself was in some sort of celebration, a celebration of such an ugly turnout for him. 'Exceptionally beautiful day for another failed attempt at a normal beginning,' he thought.

The tight knot that resided in his throat all morning had swelled when he placed his belongings into a worn leather suitcase. The ridges of a photo frame dug into his callous palm, and for a moment, he wondered why he had it anyway.

"Quite blank," he muttered bitterly, noting the lack of a photograph.

He dropped it into the bag without much care, and took dull note of how empty his office was. No more trinkets arising from the grove of his desk, no more small posters that hung limply from the stone walls. He dropped his gaze to the ground and noticed the gray carpet that was impeccably clean, a running velvet that swayed only to one side. Perfectly reserved for the next teacher...

Just before his eyes glossed over, he heard a small rasp. He turned his head to the doorway and saw a familiar young girl in Gryffindor robes.

"Professor Lupin?" She asked, her voice small and far off.

He regained his composure and waved a gentle hand inward, "Come in, Hermione."

She awkwardly made her way into the office, taking an eyeful of how everything was suddenly final. Hermione crooked her head up and tried to look at him before she linked her hands together nervously and whispered, "I heard you're leaving."

His chest refused to let him breath. 'And never coming back,' he realized.

"Well, yes," Remus said, trying to choose his words carefully before continuing in an unsure tone, "Not for a while."

"Are you ever coming back?"

He couldn't bare to look at her to give her an answer, finding that he had lost the ability to talk. He shook his head, and looked down at her feet. She shuffled them across his perfect carpet. 'Jagged,' he thought.

"Professor, it's not fair," she concluded, and raised her voice as she continued, "it's not fair at all. I-- I don't think you're dangerous."

Remus jerked his head up. 'Sweet girl,' he admired as she swallowed and blinked back obvious tears on the brink of destruction. He didn't know. Why? This was the girl who confronted him about being a were-- 'Who embraced the fact that you are a werewolf..' Remus reminded himself.

And before he could answer, he didn't know his feet were scampering over to her, or that his legs would give out as he kneeled down in front of her. She dropped her gaze a little, and was quite taken back when Remus took hold of her arms.

"Hermione," He had no idea what he was going to say as his fingers were being enveloped by black material.

Her warm brown eyes flickered slightly as they met with his. Her finger hooked onto the cuff of his shirt, but he was so numb he hardly noticed.

"I want you to take care," Remus dug deep down and uncovered a smile that was easy to emerge onto his tired face.

She stood there, dumbfounded. Then, to his relief, he saw the corners of Hermione's mouth twitch. She broke into a smile and then threw her arms around Remus' neck, "I will."

Such a simple response.

"I'll see you soon enough," He whispered into the brown curls that invaded his senses.

With that, he let go of Hermione and felt the slip of her arms from his neck. The air prickled at his skin. As he rose from the ground and grabbed his suitcase, he felt a sliver of cold metal traveling near his heart. He looked down to see a golden chain hang from his neck, and then diverted his attention to Hermione.

Scarlet graced her cheeks when she replied, "It's a gift because you've been-- well, no-- you still are a great Professor. I just wanted you to have that, and if you don't like it you can return it, I got it at-"

"Hermione," Remus interrupted, and saw a pair of eyes look at him nervously, "I like it. Thank you."

And when he left the office with a third year girl inside, he felt a strange twinge of regret for not having said anymore. He looked at the necklace one more time before he stepped into the carriage, before he took one more glance at a place where it had been his home for so many years, and also a place where he had been disowned by many. 'Except for one,' a voice reminded.

The golden chain slipped around his fingers, but still shone the same under the umbrella of a sun. The sun dove into his eyes at that moment. The necklace was a constant reminder, yes, a constant reminder. Better days were ahead, better people, beautiful people.

Acceptance.


End file.
